“Gather up as I say! Do it now! I said to do it now! I’m the Hero, damn it, so listen to me! You fucking halfwit shit-for-brains need to do as I say! Fucking god damn it, why is no one listening to me?!”

Kevin raged as the generals of the three (arguably four) remaining member nations of the Luminas Confederacy ordered their soldiers around without listening to his instruction.

“Please, my lord, calm down! If these fools won’t listen to your divine and sacred words, then just take solace in our company. Tee-hee!”

“Shut the fuck up, you shit-colored whore!”

“Yes, master. We all love you so very much!”

The woman who tried to calm Kevin down had no control over the words coming out of her mouth. She, like the rest of Kevin’s ‘property’ had been affixed with a mix of a slave collar and a powerful rune called the ‘Stepford Modification Sigil’. These things combined to turn Kevin’s slave women into nothing more than prisoners in their own heads; their actions and words dictated not by their own wills but by the puppeteering control of the collar and the behavior-altering rune.

While they acted submissive and sultry, in their minds they were screaming no end of insults at the bastard who did this to them. Kevin was no Hero in their eyes, he was just a more immediate and tangible evil than the devilish Abominable King.

Kevin grew tired of trying to get people to listen to him and turned to one of his slave girls.

“You! I am angry, so get ready for a beating, you mud-covered bitch!”

“Of course, my master! I am ready and willing for you to vent all your frustrations on me! I would love nothing less!”

While her body and words were accepting the torment and likely death that awaited her, she cried out against fate inside her head. So many others had been outlets for Kevin’s ‘frustrations’ both emotional and sexual. None had emerged intact, and few had emerged alive at all. Those that did survive were disposed of due to having injuries that Kevin was unwilling to fork over the cash needed to fix. Even if he had been willing to spend the money in the first place, healing magic couldn’t restore one’s eyes or regrow lost limbs.

Kevin grabbed the poor slave by the hair and dragged her into his tent. Soon after, the sounds of Kevin beating the ever-loving tar out of the slave woman filtered out through the barely open flap.

“Lucky girl!” one of the slaves said without wanting to.

“I know! She gets to be so physical with the master! I’m so jealous!”

“Why can’t I be in her place?”

Those who were not slaves watched as the puppeteered slaves chatted and turned away in disgust or apathy. This shit had happened before, and they could do nothing to stop it. Even if they did try, what good would it do? If they intervened, they would end up as slaves and in the same position as the ones currently bemoaning that they weren’t the one getting beaten and raped to death.

A hour and a half later, and the sounds of Kevin’s rage slowly ceased. Kevin emerged from the tent, his body and clothes stained with blood, among other things.

“Clean up the mess.” He barked at the slaves as he went to get his sore body healed by the Church for free.

“Of course, my beloved master!”

…

The generals stood atop a hill overlooking the wide, flat plain that had a thick and unnatural fog hanging just above the knees of the undead forces near the fort. The enemy undead had massed, but either the necromancers controlling them were unwilling to fight on a less advantageous position or they could only control the undead up to a certain range. The unified armies of the confederacy stood on the high ground, but they were too far away for their archers to hit anything and their catapults were still arriving via the long baggage train.

“We should attack now and destroy the undead, otherwise the siege will be far more costly. The undead don’t need sleep and as such they could attack while we rest.”

“Indeed. Unfortunately, my men are quite unfit for active combat. Give them a few hours to recuperate and-…”

“No!” Kevin yelled as he entered the tent where the generals had gathered. “We attack immediately and then immediately take the fort!”

“But, my Lord Hero, our men are tired from the forced march! They will not be in peak fighting condition to-!”

“That sounds like a whole lot of ‘not my problem’! This is your final warning; do what I want, or I will get the Church to excommunicate you and your families. Do you understand?”

The generals looked at each other and realized that this was a no-win situation. If they won, they would be forced to give all the credit to the leader of the new Heroes. If they lost, then the leader of the New Heroes would have the Church punish them, and Kevin was not known for giving out light punishments.

“You have 2 hours to get ready for the attack! After that, you will attack, and you will destroy the undead. I will loan you my useless companions for the attack and let your men take turns with my slaves if they win. Just know that if I have to get involved myself, there will be consequences.”

Kevin finished his threat by looking at one of the generals from the Siempre Dorado Kingdom who had darker skin than the others. His skin wasn’t deep brown, but instead he was more like a fantasy Latino.

“You better not fuck this up, you damn *******! I’ve got my eye on you, so pull your damn weight!”

Kevin stormed out of the tent, having totally forgot that the slur he used was for Mexicans, not fantasy Spaniards or Spaniards in general. Then again, he might have known it wasn’t the right slur, but in his bigoted and racist mind, he probably couldn’t care less. Perhaps to him, anyone who looked Latin-American was a Mexican.

The generals looked at each other and sighed. They had no choice but to do as Kevin wanted if they wanted to continue their lives as they were. They finished planning and immediately went out to prepare for the battle to come. In each of their minds, they dreaded the battle to come.

…

Kain exited the pseudo fast-travel network that the dungeon entrances had created, emerging right inside the fort that was to be sieged. His mere presence in the area caused cold sweat to run down the flesh of every member of the confederacy for ten miles, but Kain swiftly shackled his menacing aura and the overwhelming sensation of fear that he produced vanished like it wasn’t even there. The next person to exit the network was Alistaira. She and Kain had parted ways with Alexis after Kain gave her the go-ahead to unleash her monsters on the Siempre Dorado Kingdom.

Kain leapt up onto the walls facing the Heroes and the other nuisances that dared to attack when he was not fully prepared. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the forces in the distance. The Fel Bats had shown that the invading force probably marched for 5 straight hours from the border until they reached this place. By all logic, they should have taken a moment to rest, eat, drink, relieve themselves and regain their stamina. This was not what was being done.

The armies were slowly gathering into a formation that made absolutely no sense to Kain or anyone with a lick of military know-how. The infantry was stationed in front of the archers and mages, who were in turn stationed in small groups between several formations of cavalry.

“What the fuck are they thinking?” Kain asked aloud. He had no idea that this was the ‘brilliant strategy’ that Kevin had forced the generals to use. Kain mused that perhaps the infantry was supposed to part when the cavalry advanced, but the fact that the archers and mages would have to fire through the infantry in front of them, almost certainly hitting their own men more often than not, made Kain wonder which dumbass thought that the formation the Luminas Confederacy was using was a good one.

A short while after the forces of the ‘Light Lands’ took their positions, they all slowly advanced as one. Kain estimated that it would take another twenty to thirty minutes before the worshipers of the non-existent deity Lumina would be within archer range, so he ordered the necromancers to work together with Alistaira before he left through the fast-travel network to visit another theatre of the ‘Holy War’.

Alistaira raised her staff into the air and along with some other combat mages began to prepare several spells. While the combat mages would fire their magical projectiles into the massed forces of the enemy, Alistaira had other, more sinister ways of damaging the Luminas Confederacy soldiers before her and aiding the forces of Darksol.

Ten minutes before the archer duel began, Alistaira activated her spell and the low and unnatural fog on the battlefield began to increase in volume while gaining a twisted dark purple hue. At the same time, the sounds of something on the now heavily obscured terrain breaking up through the dirt went unheard by the Luminas Confederacy soldiers as they trudged onwards. They did not notice that anything was wrong until one of the foot soldiers cried out in pain and held his foot in his hands.

Soon, others joined the first man in his pain, followed soon after by horses throwing their riders and making the noises that equines make when their hooves have been pierced. A wise mage used his Wind Magic to temporarily blow away the dark purple fog and gasped at what he saw.

The men and horses had not stepped on very sharp rocks. Oh, no. They had stepped on rusty nails embedded in individual concrete slabs that had been hidden in the dirt. One the slabs had been moved towards the surface, the rust-covered and thick nails became a terrible trap. Forget caltrops, this was far more wicked!

The fog quickly fell back into position as the mage failed to keep the wind shield up. The forces of the confederacy powered through the trap that had been set, breathing in the wisps of the dark purple fog that occasionally swirled up close to them. It was only a few more minute before the archer battle began.

It was strange. They may have already been tired from the forced march, but for some reason, ever since they stepped into the dark purple fog that gathered around their waists, they all felt so much wearier.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter.” one of the soldiers said aloud. “It’s is probably just my imagination.”

“Hey,” remarked one of his compatriots, “do those undead over there look more… spooky? Or is it just me? Don’t their weapons and armor look slightly more sinister than they did when we got here?”

“You’re imagining things.” answered his commanding officer. “There are no spells in existence that empower the undead. The only things a necromancer can do it raise and control the dead, not buff them.”

As the forces advanced, Alistaira smirked as she overheard the words of the fools that came seeking their demise. They had no idea what they were walking into.